With a roar like that which might have been expected to proceed from
an infuriated bull, rather than from the throat of a human being, the
husky henchman of the Atlas Submarine interests struck out blindly. But
his blows only encountered the steel floor, and barked the skin off his
knuckles.
“Better save your breath and your blows, my man,” warned Ned, who was
seated comfortably astride the fellow’s neck.
While this had been going on, Herc, deprived of movement for a second
from sheer astonishment, had dropped lightly beside them. Seeing at a
glance that Ned needed no help, he turned his attention to Anderson,
who, hearing the commotion outside, had dropped his work and come
running toward the door. The fellow’s inherent cowardice showed in his
pallid cheeks.
“W-w-what is it?” he gasped.
“Discovery, you precious hound!” explained Herc. Before Anderson could
use the pistol he carried, the Dreadnought Boy’s fist had struck it
upward out of his hand. The weapon fell ringing on the metal flooring.
The next instant Herc had possession of it.
“Now get hold of this fellow’s gun. I can’t hold him much longer,”
gasped Ned, from his position on the recumbent Gradbarr’s neck. While
Ned held the fellow’s wrist pinned tightly to the floor, Herc took
possession of the pistol which Gradbarr still gripped.
“Blazes take you,” fumed the fellow. “I’ll make you sorry for this some
day. I’ll fix you.”
“Then you’ll have to defer it till after you get out of the
penitentiary,” shot out Ned. “We’ve caught you two in as precious a bit
of knavery as was ever heard of.”
As he spoke he let go of Gradbarr, and, springing nimbly aside out of
the way of a possible sudden attack, allowed the man to rise. For one
instant bovine rage flared on the fellow’s sullen features. But the
next moment he seemed to realize that he was overmastered.
“Well, what are you going to do with us?” he demanded.
Anderson stood trembling by. Suddenly he broke into hysterical
pleadings.
“For heaven’s sake don’t disgrace me,” he begged. “Think of what it’ll
mean to me to go to prison.”
“Think of what it would have meant to Mr. Lockyer if you had succeeded
in undoing the work of a lifetime,” rejoined Ned. “No, Anderson, I’m
sorry for you, but you’ve got to take your medicine. I advise you to
take it like a man. In any event, it is not for us to decide this
matter. That must be left to Mr. Lockyer.”
“Oh, cut out that preachy-preachy, and tell us what you are going to do
with us,” growled Gradbarr defiantly.
Now this was a bit of a problem. They could not very well manage the
risky business of marching their prisoners out of the yard in the
darkness. Too many opportunities for escape presented themselves.
Suddenly the solution flashed upon Ned. There was a heavy bar on the
outside, or cabin side, of the bulkhead door. He would drive them into
the torpedo room and deprive them of their tools. Then, with the door
locked, they could be safely left in there till he summoned aid.
“March into that torpedo room,” he ordered, emphasizing his command by
leveling his revolver.
“Confound you, I’ll see you hanged first,” snarled Gradbarr, making as
if he was about to dare all and risk a dash for freedom. But something
in the glint of Ned’s eyes at that instant stopped him.
“Are you going to get into that room, Gradbarr?” inquired the
Dreadnought Boy, quietly and without a quaver in his voice, though his
heart was beating wildly. What if the fellow wouldn’t go? Ned would
not--could not--shoot him down in cold blood. Fortunately, however,
Gradbarr gave sullen acquiescence to the sharp order by turning and
reëntering the room in which the lamp still stood on the floor.
Anderson, whining and pleading by turns, followed him.
“Pick up their tools, Herc, while I keep them covered,” ordered Ned.
In a few minutes the red-headed lad had the tools gathered up, while
Ned kept two unwavering revolvers pointed at his prisoners.
“All ready, Ned,” said Herc, at length.
“Then get that lantern and follow me. Don’t move,” ordered Ned, slowly
backing out and not allowing his weapons to deviate an inch.
“You’re going to leave us here in the dark?” inquired Gradbarr.
“It’s the only safe thing to do,” rejoined Ned.
As the two lads reached the door, Ned made a quick step backward and
seized the hand rail on the outside of the room. He was only just in
time, for the instant that he relaxed his vigilance Gradbarr made
a desperate spring for him. But his leap was met, not by the lad’s
form, but by a ponderous mass of metal as the door swung to. The next
moment the heavy clang of the bar on the cabin side falling into place
apprised both rascals, even had they required such notification, that
they were prisoners.
“Phew!” exclaimed Ned, “I’m mighty glad that is over. One second more
with that door and we’d have had a tussle on our hands. I don’t admire
Mr. Gradbarr, but he is certainly a fighter. He’s all beef and brawn,
mixed with steel alloy.”
“What’ll we do now?” asked Herc, as they could hear from the other side
of the door Gradbarr’s furious voice railing at them.
“Make tracks for the new foreman’s house. He lives close to here,
and then we must summon Mr. Lockyer and Lieutenant Parry,” was the
rejoinder.
“You don’t think they’ll do any harm in that torpedo room just out of
rage at being captured?”
“Well, they can’t do much harm. We’ve got their tools,” rejoined Ned.
At the gate of the yard, they almost stumbled over a moving form asleep
on a bench.
“It’s the watchman,” exclaimed Ned disgustedly. “He smells of liquor,
too. He’s a fine guardian for such a valuable bit of property as that
submarine.”
“Shall we wake him?” asked Herc.
“No. What good would it do? Come on, we’ve no time to waste. Say,
though, this fine specimen of a watchman has left his keys lying by his
side. We’ll just use them and save ourselves the trouble of climbing
over the fence.”
“Good idea,” declared Ned, as they put it into execution, and hastened
out of the yard.
Andy Bowler was tremendously excited when he had been aroused and made
to understand what had taken place. He hastily dressed, and, as the
boys had brought the rig with them from the place at which they had
left it tied, they were hardly any time in reaching the hotel. Here
Lieutenant Parry was awakened and the news communicated to him. Mr.
Lockyer was summoned by telephone and soon joined them.
“How can I ever thank you,” he exclaimed warmly, as he met the party.
“Boys, if that boat had been damaged to-night, it would have been a
death blow to all my hopes. I don’t mind being frank enough to tell
you that I would not have had enough capital left to indulge in any
very extensive repairs.”
All haste was made in returning to the yard, and the first thing that
was done was to awaken the watchman. What he heard about himself
immediately thereafter must have made his ears burn for the remainder
of his lifetime. The wretched man, half fuddled with liquor, lost no
time in staggering off, and the next day left the village.
This done, the party proceeded to the submarine shed, having first
provided themselves with lanterns at the storeroom. A deadly silence
hung over the place as they entered instead of the half-smothered yells
and shouts the lads had expected to hear.
“I guess they realize they’re in a thick box,” said Lieutenant Parry,
“and so are saving their breath for another occasion. Now then, let’s
get below.”
So saying, he swung himself down inside the conning tower, followed by
the others. At the steel door in the bulkhead they paused. But there
was not a sound from within.
“Gradbarr and Anderson,” shouted Mr. Lockyer, pounding on the door, “I
wish to tell you in case you feel like making any resistance that we
are all armed and shall not hesitate to use our weapons.”
There was no reply. In the intense stillness one could hear the
creaking, crackling sounds that always are present in a metal boat, as
the material of which she is constructed contracts after a warm day.
“Better open up,” said Lieutenant Parry. “Mr. Lockyer, you stand at the
foot of the ladder and be ready to shoot in case of trouble. We’ll open
the door and try to collar the fellows without hurting them if they
rush out.”
Clang!
The metal bar dropped as Ned pulled it out of its hasp. But there was
still no sound from within.
The next moment the inventor’s party had swung the portal wide open.
But the expected rush did not come, nor was there a sound to show that
the dark torpedo-room was occupied.
“Bring a light here,” ordered Lieutenant Parry. “I believe----”
But there was no need for him to finish his sentence. Ned’s upraised
lantern showed every nook and corner of the place.
It was empty of life.
It was almost immediately apparent how the two prisoners had effected
their escape. Forward, where one of the after-base plates of the
torpedo tubes had not been bolted in place, there was an easy means
of exit which the lads, to their chagrin, had not noticed before.
Evidently, all that Gradbarr and Anderson had had to do to gain their
liberty was to enter the torpedo tube and crawl through.
“Good gracious,” cried Ned, vexed beyond measure; “we must have been
blind or foolish or both not to have noticed that opening.”
The lieutenant, however, placed his hand comfortingly upon the
disgusted lad’s shoulder.
“Never mind, my lad,” he said; “you are not the first boy--or man, for
that matter--who has forgotten that there are more ways than one out
of a difficulty. Is it any use pursuing them, I wonder?” he went on,
turning to Mr. Lockyer.
“If you ask my advice I should reply in the negative,” was the answer.
“No doubt they are both far away by this time.”
“And good riddance, too,” muttered Herc to himself, an opinion which
was shared by the others.
“At any rate, we’ll have a good guard here for the remainder of the
night,” said the foreman, and, in accordance with his resolution that
no more attempts would be made on the boat with his knowledge, the
faithful fellow passed the rest of the night on board. As for the
others, with plenty to ponder over, they returned to the hotel, where
they slept soundly till the dawn of the day which was to witness the
launching of “Lockyer’s Dream.”